The Blizzard
by crowskisses
Summary: Mr. McCullough was looking forward to a peaceful night when a blizzard brings 3 wayward travelers to his doorstep in the midst of a blizzard. He never could have imagined a night where Damon and Matt manage to destroy his house by dawn. I Love College Universe.


Title: The Blizzard

Summary: Mr. McCullough was looking forward to a peaceful night when a blizzard brings 3 wayward travelers to his doorstep in the midst of a blizzard. He never could have imagined a night where Damon and Matt manage to destroy his house by dawn. I Love College Universe.

Rating: K+ (language)

Disclaimer: Own nothing.

A/N: If you're new to my writing it stops after LJ stopped writing the series (so no Hunters), I haven't quite worked in her "War of Roses" stuff yet and there are no tv references. I love college universe junior year, set just days after "A Dalcrest Winter Wonderland", precedes "Spring Break". This one serves as another prequel to "The Summer of Bonnie, Matt and Damon" and has easter eggs referencing the various other stories in the universe. Plus, expect the return epilogue of "TSBMaD" shortly! Written to a lot of Celia Pavey's work.

 **The Blizzard**

It was out of convenience, not desperation as Damon privately told himself, that he jumped over the back fence of the McCullough's yard softly into the snow with his two burdens each thrown over a shoulder. Dropping the larger one, a blond mutt, but refusing the relinquish the smaller redbird; he started to reach for the lock to snap it. Her faint voice stopped him, "There's a key under the mat."

At first he glanced back at the unconscious quarterback, but her soft, wavering voice came again, "You're standing on it."

Ahhh, English was tricky that way. He stepped aside, retrieving the key and opening the sliding door while sending out a tendril of power to scan the house for inhabitants. He hit wards, but the house seemed as empty as the driveway had been. He retrieved his other burden and carried them both into the kitchen and paused, the birdlike voice came again, stronger this time. "Put Matt on the table. I'll take a look and call Mary if I need to."

Protectiveness lurched inside of him at the thought of her overextending herself after everything they'd been through in the unexpected meeting with wolves on the way home for winter break, but he swallowed it and unceremoniously got the blond onto the table, heedless of the crashing glassware. There was no question, nor the option broached, of him giving Matt vampire blood to heal. It was simply too repugnant for the both of them, Matt morally and Damon on much different principles; it was an understanding of sorts. Completely focused on gently lowering Bonnie, holding her steady and making sure she was truly unhurt neither noticed the very soft footsteps on the stairs. Neither felt the almost seamless wards shift or saw her father holding a bat, peering into the kitchen from halfway up the stairs.

So Damon went on as he normally would, his dark razor edge remaining even as his worry softened him internally: his hand smoothing the snow out of her hair, tracing the delicate lines of anxiety on her face, brushing the small traces of blood from it, his other hand holding her secure and upright, while softly running soothing strokes up her back. His voice was calm, velvet soft while everything else was running in a current far beneath the surface. "Are you alright, redbird?"

She was not so controlled, her face giving away everything she thought, but she managed a smile as she tried to pull from his arms. "I'm not hurt, Damon." A pause as he resisted, "Not physically. Just drained is all."

He let her go, hovering close behind, wanting to press her into resting, but he knew the magic and mental battle she'd fought today was not yet over. Her aura was shaky enough: fear ringing the middle with wavering at the edges that always made her vulnerable to her gift, her curse. As much as he hated it, he couldn't stop Bonnie from caring for Matt, _as a nurse_ he told himself, without simply grabbing her and dragging her off again. So he cooperated fetching towels and tea and let her do her work while hovering, always hovering. Always watching.

He wasn't the only one watching Bonnie closely; Mr. Colin McCullough had lowered his bat and watched as his youngest daughter ran practiced hands along Matt, frowning at his shoulder. Watched as she checked the pulse and Matt's pupils and began a poultice to reduce swelling. Watched on and was forcibly struck not only that she'd grown up, but that she'd inherited more of his mother's gifts that he'd thought: the healing hands of a nurse. This was not the child he'd helped moved into college years ago: loud, panicky and full of giggles. He watched as she relocated a shoulder and turned abruptly to the dark man hovering over her and merely said, "You're hungry."

"I'm fine." Yet Damon's jaw ticked and he looked away from her, the girl he'd been unable to look away from before. "We need to check on Stefan, Elena and Meredith."

Mr. McCullough, as a father, frowned at the look his daughter was giving Damon, but was not blind to what _that_ look meant. She reached up and hesitantly touched the edge of his jaw, her touch eliciting a ticking reaction. "I'm offering." The jaw ticked more visibly, her next words losing the soft intimate tones and changing to sheepish. "Besides, I think I broke my phone."

At that, Mr. McCullough made a face to himself thinking of the budget, Bonnie broke more phones than he believed humanly possible. Damon also rolled his eyes in apparent exasperation turning back to her, "I pity the phones you get, it seems to be death row for cellular technology." He pushed her hair off her neck gently, staring at it, before turning his gaze away again. "I'll buy you a new one, redbird."

She peered into his face, "Can you reach Stefan?"

A pause, a frown. "Not from here. He's too weak."

Bonnie nodded, her face puckering in determination. "You have a phone." her doe eyes looking up with an openness and softness not to be denied.

The next words the watcher on the stairs couldn't hear and he watched just long enough to confirm his suspicions, raised on Thanksgivings past by a lapis lazuli ring and a very strange locker room wolf attack. Bonnie and assumedly the rest of her friends knew about vampires, werewolves and the rest of what lurks in the dark and the sunlight. He needed whiskey and vervain before the inevitable conversation that needed to happen tonight. It was time for Bonnie to understand, to know, all of what their family had endured generation after generation.

* * *

It wasn't the conversation he was expecting of course, but with an unexpected blizzard he shouldn't have been surprised. Yet the night was not over. By the time Colin McCullough came downstairs Matt was sitting up and Bonnie was handing him a sandwich, guilty eyes flying between Bonnie and the other two. Her words shook, "Hi Daddy! I didn't think anyone was going to be home…" she trailed off and then rallied as if struck by an idea, "Want a midnight snack? We're having grilled cheese, because of.." she faltered, her arms nervously gesturing, "…the blizzard, you know?"

Without waiting for a reply she headed for the fridge, but the lights began to flicker from the storm and everything changed. All three men moved closer to her as she froze, going almost completely slack, all three used to these episodes and responding in different ways. Mr. McCullough sighed, his mustache moving with it, but stepped back and hoped for once that they wouldn't fight over who would catch her. The blank words came as they had for years.

" _The devil needs, but must wait,_

 _The demon to watch and take,_

 _The sun rises and falls,_

 _Seasons turn and one will burn."_

Bonnie's father kept his voice calm and not directed specifically at her, despite Matt's loud, shaky breathing, "Who will burn, I wonder?"

" _The one who speaks."_ She turned then; eyeing them all with blank eyes that saw far more than was comfortable.

Mr. McCullough took a hard swallow, but the next words came from the vampire, barely leashed anger directed elsewhere, seemingly on the blond, to not break the trance. "What can be done to prevent it?"

An odd mechanical half smile washed across her face,

" _A sip here and there,_

 _A stolen lock of hair."_

The smile broadened into laughter and Mr. McCullough knew he recognized the laugh just before his daughter passed out cold and fell in his direction.

He carried her to the couch, sent Matt for the whiskey and directed each pale boy into a different armchair and directed the drinks to be poured. They were as Mr. McCullough grabbed the journal from the shelf and wrote the words she'd said down. When he finished he eyed both young men carefully, Matt's pale anxiety and Damon's determined lounging with eyes for only one in the room he decided to break the silence. "Matt, how badly are you injured?"

Matt looked around as if an answer would appear, before he swallowed and his southern drawl came out, "To be honest, I'm not sure. Bonnie would know."

Mr. McCullough nodded, slightly surprised when the accented voice added clipped information. "She relocated his shoulder, but no internal or brain injuries."

"Portable technology has certainly improved then, since Mary went to school." Mr. McCullough responded archly, idly watching as Damon gave Matt a slight nod. He took a long sip of whiskey before speaking again, his mustache twitching slightly in what might have been amusement. "I'd ask why you're here unexpectedly with no car, but I've decided to blame it on the blizzard."

Matt smiled gratefully and Damon merely nodded his consent or agreement. Matt's voice was soft, "Thank you, Mr. McCullough." Matt shifted, with an anxious look at Bonnie, "I'd hate to impose, but we might need to stay the night, if that's possible…. If not I can call my mom or stop by the hospital to get the new house key. She works night shift."

Mr. McCullough nodded and Bonnie stirred like a kitten, not waking, and he stroked her hair until she settled. "If you'd like to go to bed now, that's fine. I imagine she'll be awhile in…recovering."

They both shook their head in the negative and took sips of their drinks, Damon opting to pour himself a second whiskey. Mr. McCullough stared at the two men stuck in his youngest daughter's orbit, wondering idly how he'd always thought it would be only his other girls leaving broken hearts across Virginia (which they had). He took his own sip of whiskey and sent up an internal prayer, there were things they didn't talk about outside the family, barely talked about in the family. Far more often than not, they simply swept it under the rug, perhaps the rug was full and it was time to do some cleaning. It seemed those things couldn't be hidden and he was destined to have this conversation with the boys yet again.

His words reverted back to how it been handled in his house growing up, not a shameful thing, but always veiled in secrecy. "Judging from your reactions at Thanksgivings past and tonight, I gather you're aware that Bonnie's not…" Here he paused, faltering and the words ' _not normal'_ hung in the air as he took a sip, "…like other girls."

Damon gave a cat-like smile, whatever he was about to say swallowed by the mumbling from the couch and confused brown eyes opening and looking at her father. "I'm not the one who put glue in Mary's shampoo!"

Her father's words were soft and soothing, though he'd have to ask which one of the girls had done it later as that had been quite the incident when the girls had been young. "Little one, let's not worry about that now. I'm here, just sleep."

She settled after a moment at her daddy's voice and both other men sunk fully back into their armchairs, where they'd tensed unsure what she'd say this time. Mr. McCullough took another sip of whiskey and gave them a half-smile, "She takes after my mother, unlike my other girls." His smile broadened as Matt nodded in mute understanding, Damon made no response, apparently uninterested in the conversation. Mr. McCullough didn't like Damon, he much preferred Matt's innate goodness, and tonight the unwilling host would make that clear with a subject change designed to make someone squirm. "Damon, a friend of yours stopped by the house this fall."

Damon's attention snapped away from assessing the sleeping girl and wondering if he'd taken a touch too much in his hunger, his features icing over. "A friend?"

"You have actual friends? Seriously?" Matt asked, looking to the vampire in incredulous surprise.

Damon spared him a glare and Mr. McCullough smothered a smile at the interaction, instead turning his face into a somber mask. "He'd met Bonnie and wanted to know if he could meet my other daughters and possibly court them. " Matt looked confused and Damon's ice deepened as he thought. Mr. McCullough went on, "He asked me to call him Sully and he was ….. quite the odd fellow. Odd enough, I didn't let him in to the house, you see."

Matt's eyes bulged and Damon's scowl deepened with anger. The words Damon uttered were laced with cold anger, "I'll speak to him."

"He's the worst!" Matt exclaimed with unrestrained feeling thinking of St. Patrick's days past. "Don't let him near them! Or anyone!"

Before anything else could be said the small redhead burst upwards, her words more audible this time, woven into song.

" _Are you going to Scarborough Fair?_

 _Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme_.

 _Remember me to one who lives there._ "

Then she shook her head and slumped into her father, not quite asleep. He gave her a sip of whiskey, then a longer one as the silence stretched, and said as calmly as he could with the click of icy understanding in his head, he'd run through the implications of his own odd friend later. "One of Bonnie's favorite songs as a child. She'll probably be fine now in her own bed."

She mumbled her consent and asked for her "stuffies". He deposited her in bed himself, claiming he was not yet an old man, and let the two fuss over her as he wrote the lyrics into the worn journal he'd always recorded her sayings in. His wife was travelling and for that he was relieved, especially as he grabbed the set of house keys from their hook with a smile.

* * *

He could hear them arguing as he approached the room and couldn't quite contain his smile upon seeing a vampire and a college boy each holding a different stuffed animal and seeing his youngest tucked into bed with a plethora of blankets haphazardly all over, as if she was a freezing baby. He'd come back later and make sure Bonnie could move.

"She'll like them both, lads. Now come on, I'm old enough to need some sleep. I'll put you in Bridget and Maureen's rooms." They glared and he gestured Damon out of the room, letting Matt have some time as both the more trustworthy of the two and seemingly Bonnie's preferred choice from the kiss at Thanksgiving. Not being a vampire certainly helped in the decision. Damon all but threw the stuffed animal on the bed, though his fingers discretely traced curls as he left.

They walked down the hall, Colin McCullough debating exactly the words he wanted to use. For most of their lives the girls had shared rooms, Bonnie's nighttime interruptions earned her a private room before her sisters. Then he'd had to give up his office, when his girls became teenagers and started fighting over clothes and makeup. That had ended up wild Maureen's room for the most part. He opened the door and gestured inside, "The sheets should be fresh, lad, and there's a bathroom en suite."

Damon was looking around, eyeing the bed, but Mr. McCullough continued on using his words carefully to betray enough, but not all. Sometimes it was enough to simply let their minds do the work for you. "My wife wanted to name Maureen Katherine, I declined saying Katherines only cause trouble."

"Interesting." Damon noted absently, eyeing the photos of a young pretty Maureen plastered on the walls, intensely studying the many of her and her sisters. Despite his lack of apparent inattention, unease crawled up his spine.

"Didn't deter my wife, she thought it was good solid Scottish name." Damon made a noise to indicate he was listening, even as he stilled his movements; Mr. McCullough went on as he moved out of the room. "I insisted Katherine was of a German origin, not Scottish."

Damon's insides froze, icing over as the connection struck and sunk in and Mr. McCullough watched this, seeing the color rise and recede and eyes widen in confusion. The smug father stepped out, task complete. He made one last comment to a man that was locked in the past, "Sorry there are no windows, Maureen had a habit of sneaking out at night."

He locked the door from the outside, leaning against for a moment and remembering his own youth and the woman that had come to the village, before realizing Matt was standing in the hallway laughing silently in complete mirth that Damon had been put in the room Bonnie had always jokingly called the 'chastity belt.' He'd not heard the conversation, but it didn't matter, Damon was stuck.

Colin McCullough allowed himself a smile, before looking at the blond whom he almost saw a son and saying as seriously as he could, "When you have four daughters, you'll understand why all young men who stay over get locked in rooms."

Matt's laughter sobered in understanding that he also would be locked in from the outside. He followed with a backwards glance at Bonnie's room, "But Bonnie…"

"-will be fine." He elaborated to soothe both Matt and himself, "Lord knows I can sleep through my alarm clock, but as soon as a window or door opens or a child frets I'm instantly awake. Daughters change a man, son."

Matt took his lock-in with his usual easy going manner, "I'm not an expert with women, but I make great eggs if that's what we want for breakfast."

"I'm sure some of us will appreciate that." Mr. McCullough said, the _some_ not lost on Matt. He locked the door and went downstairs to nurse some tea and reread what Bonnie had said and try and figure out what he should do.

Matt spoke through the wall in a normal tone, knowing the listener would hear it. "Her dad _knows._ I know it!"

"Thank you for such a brilliant observation." The words came back through, sarcastic, but still unsettled from what Damon had heard earlier about Katherine. He could try to lie to himself all he wanted, but it had been a veiled comment about Katherine and that….that certainly changed things.

"We have to do something!" Matt's voice was louder this time as he stared up at the ceiling, unable to conquer this angry unease in him enough to sleep. He could almost feel Damon roll his eyes through the wall. Matt uneasily pushed himself up into a sitting position, anxiety rushing his veins.

Damon's voice drifted back, the tones as if he was speaking to a child, the tones he often he used with Matt. In its own way it was oddly comforting to have Damon be able to be annoyed. "I'll handle it. You can't do anything, anyway."

What Damon had meant as a slight towards Matt's limited capabilities as a human made him grimace wearily instead. Damon would probably just wipe Mr. McCullough's memory. Tonight they'd already fought the battle: there was no point in bickering. Matt privately decided it would be another truce night after his next comment, and hoped Damon caught the thought. "Really? I've got some lovely windows to look out of."

A growl came through the wall and Matt smiled to himself, going on, "How is the 'chastity belt'? It was where the girls got rotated when they tried to sneak out."

"Colin told me." The response was proud as he and Mr. McCullough were on first name terms while Matt wasn't, even as the vampire wondered why he was even still talking with Matt. Talking almost like friends would. Yet he had to ask the next question, burying the jealous burn into himself and not his tone. "And Bonnie?"

"I didn't live here." It wasn't quite a snap, but Matt thought back, he'd been over at Bonnie's house often enough for school projects or hanging out when he'd been dating Elena. This was a truce night, after all. "Maybe once when she was dating Ray. Elena said in high school, back when we were dating, the girls' parents left a door unlocked so they could all get to each other. Of course nobody here locked their doors then, anyway." Matt leaned his head back against the headboard, shoving his own old familiar twinge of grief down. "…After the accident, Elena stayed with the McCulloughs until Aunt Judith could move here. I guess Margaret did too."

Damon's reply was long in coming, but not condescending, simply thoughtful. Whether he was imagining the girls as children, or the impossibility of keeping the sisterhood apart, his own loss of a parent while young or the fact he, Matt and Elena were all-alike that way, Matt simply could speculate. In fact, Damon had been debating why it had been Bonnie's house and not Meredith's and recalling dimly how they'd tried to distract him after his mother passed when giving birth to Stefan, it had mainly involved noise. He could imagine the warm Mrs. McCullough welcoming a few more children into the mayhem, spoiling the young Margaret, and could not imagine the same with Meredith's colder family. "That would have been good for Elena. I suppose Meredith was also often an overnight guest."

Matt's laughter was almost a bark. "Would you try and keep them apart?" He recovered with a glance at the door, "I think Mr. McCullough likes peace too much for that."

What Matt didn't know was that you really couldn't keep them apart and there were two girls and one quiet vampire heading for the McCullough house as he spoke. He and Damon continued talking in their separate chambers, having what would be the longest, friendliest conversation in their lives.

* * *

Mr. McCullough was rereading the words Bonnie had uttered earlier, another far far older journal lying beside it as a reference tool. The words had been directed at himself and neither of the lads. Now he was sipping red wine, he'd abandoned his tea at least an a hour ago, wondering if it was better to contact the son or the speaker herself and whether she would be at home or about at this time of year. Or whether it was simply best to sit back, watching and waiting for a journey he couldn't prevent or stop for his child, for she wasn't the first McCullough to face this fate. It was a heart wrenching thought, but one he'd had to face with the older girls as they went through the normal growing pains of broken hearts and hurt friendships. He no longer had the gift to fight whatever burning was fated for his littlest, but he did know those who did. He started to reach towards his phone to make the call to the son when the terrified, unrelenting screams started upstairs, "Wolves! Wolves! Wolllveeeesss!"

There was a crash upstairs before Mr. McCullough even made it to the downstairs landing there were more sounds of slamming heard even over the screams. He made it to the top of the stairs, heart hammering, afraid of what terrors from the crashing he would see. The door that had been keeping Damon away from his daughter was partway down the hallway and the slamming noise was coming from Matt's door, shuddering in its frame. A second later the door came flying open too. Colin McCullough had started moving towards the room of screams, but flattened against the wall as all of Matt's tall frame came barreling past wearing only boxers.

The screams abruptly stopped as Mr. McCullough entered the room, Damon was trying to soothe her, "It was only a nightmare, redbird. I'm here. "

But Bonnie was staring opened mouthed and wide-eyed at Matt, a blush blooming as she realized everyone was looking at her looking at Matt. She blushed harder, her eyes changing to staring at Damon's chest where she was nestled, her words trembling yet fierce. "It wasn't a nightmare, Damon."

Damon opened his mouth to argue or soothe, but a howl pierced the air. His eyes snapped to the window, and Mr. McCullough felt the tingle of power spread out from him in search. Damon's next words were darkly furious and clipped as he looked at Matt, "Today was a trap. Call Stefan and tell him to stay where they are and barricade."

Matt nodded his own face hardening; Bonnie attempted to rustle out of Damon's arms and the various blankets. Pale fingers clinched into her upper arms as Matt moved past Mr. McCullough and out of the room, "What are you doing?"

"Checking the wards." She answered, voice still trembling as she tried to pull away, but courage flaring underneath the fear. She always was bravest when scared.

He didn't release her, something unspoken, yet intense, passing between them. "Can you?"

"I can try, but I've already done it once today." She responded with a shaky voice and then was gone, out of the bed and running frantically. Mr. McCullough knew the wards wouldn't break, the old witch who'd put them in place was more known for her eccentricities, but was a force to be reckoned with. Mr. McCullough made eye contact with Damon as another wolf howled into the night. His eyes were darker than a black hole, filled with a fury that made Mr. McCullough turn away in fear and understanding.

He paused at the door, proud enough to overcome his human fear at the inhuman rage, looking back to the vampire, "There's a broad sword on the wall in my old office, Maureen's room. A _Braveheart_ replica, but still sharp enough."

Damon nodded and Mr. McCullough went to a safe and took out a few choice selections and grabbed the bullets he'd made. When he got back to Bonnie's room, both Damon and Bonnie were there already in what appeared to be the midst of an argument. They were intensely looking at each other, Bonnie's hands curled into fists.

He wasn't spared a glance, his daughter's voice frustrated. 'It's not working!"

"Take a sip, then." Damon shoved a questionable dark looking water bottle at her, she made a face and obliged as he went on, calmly. "While it was creative of you to step in earlier, you should have let me do it."

"You had just been knocked out." Bonnie pointed out stubbornly, her chin jutting out. "I had to protect Matt!"

Damon simply ignored her comment, those night dark eyes staring her down. " _Scopa._ You have to let me in, redbird; it'll expand my range. That way I can reach and cover Stefan's area too."

"I'm trying! It's just hard since…" she looked around, her eyes landing on her father, paling, and he understood he wasn't whom she was looking to for permission. Damon seemed to agree, his eyes sparing the older man a glance and scanning for cornflower blue yes and blond hair.

His words were icy, bitter perhaps, but urgent all the same. "He'll understand."

Bonnie opened her mouth to protest, but another howl ripped through the air, closer this time. Frustrated and uncaring that her father was watching, Damon grabbed her face and kissed her urgently. Her hands wove into his hair as if she was desperately drawn and Mr. McCullough turned away to give them some privacy. His gaze found Matt standing in the doorway, dressed this time, his phone forgotten in his hand. There was shock and anger in his blue eyes, tempered by a resigned bitterness that belonged on no young man's face. A soft sound came, a young woman giving into temptation perhaps. Then it hit and Mr. McCullough had to steady himself against the wall, his vision graying to black for a second as the sonic wave of a mental punch went out from the bed. He only managed to stay upright because it wasn't meant for him. His opened his eyes and noticed Matt, a psychic dud, didn't look particularly steady himself, he was shaking his head almost like a dog getting water off himself. He looked back to the bed, where the kiss was ending. Damon held the same bottle of questionable liquid to Bonnie's lips. She took a sip, looked around at them all, her face pale and sweaty, and said to the vampire. "You fried my brain like an egg."

Then she passed out. He put her on the bed and a pillow under her head, turning to them and covering the guilty look he'd been wearing behind one of tight control. "Barricade the doors and stay upstairs."

He stood, grabbing the sword and heading for the window, looking at Matt. "Keep her safe."

Mr. McCullough tried to stop him, voice booming into his lilt. "It's safer here. Where do you think you're going?"

Damon turned over his shoulder, window already open. His grin was feral, "Hunting."

Then he jumped out the window, sword in hand. Mr. McCullough wasn't quite sure what to say after such a panache exit, so he simply closed the window most of the way and leaned against it, watching Matt check on Bonnie. Mr. McCullough gestured to the window. He'd put the pieces together over two Thanksgiving breaks of listening to his daughter scream herself awake and one of a mysterious wolf fight at a football game where she'd been taken hostage. "Does this sort of this thing happen often?"

Matt hadn't looked up, his thoughts on Bonnie and how the hell he was going to explain all of this crazy to Mr. McCullough or if Damon was just planning on compelling him to forget. Of course, the hardest job had fallen to him. "Damon being dramatic? All the time."

"And kissing girls like that? Girls I thought were involved with other people." Mr. McCullough asked, straightening from the window, his meaning not lost. The doors downstairs would hold because of the wards.

"Completely in his character," Matt's words were bitter and tight, but he got up off the bed. He and Bonnie were starting something slowly, but every time Matt seemed to make any progress Damon got right back into the middle of it. He pushed those thoughts away, "Let's go flip the kitchen table. "

Mr. McCullough raised an eyebrow at the comment about Damon, but followed Matt out of the room and they made quick work of securing the downstairs entrances. Once upstairs, Matt picked up Bonnie and they removed to the room without windows. Mr. McCullough gestured at the rifles and the packets of ammo, before pointing the ones kept in a bowl. His next words were not quite casual, but meant to set Matt at ease. "Those are silver. Bonnie's mother had a service set she couldn't stand the sight of so we melted it down, oh I suppose Bonnie's last year in high school."

Matt's eyebrows raised, whatever the guardians had done was supposed to have fixed everything in everyone's minds. "But-" Matt started with feeling, before stopping himself, unsure what to say, so he mentally damned Damon for leaving him with the explanations part instead.

Mr. McCullough laughed, "Don't worry son, almost everyone, including my dear wife, have no memory of it." This time it was his laugh tinged with bitterness. "Or any idea how often the world almost comes to an end."

"How?" Matt choked out. "Why didn't it work?"

"Who knows? Some sort of genetic quirk, I suppose. Bonnie had to get her gifts from somewhere, now didn't she?" Mr. McCullough leaned back in his chair, thinking of his past in Scotland, of his own mother who'd passed so much on to Bonnie.

Matt didn't know what to say, simply looked broodingly at the girl on the bed. They'd kissed several times now and were taking things slowly, mainly because Bonnie was as skittish as a wild colt. Matt never knew how Bonnie felt about it, about him, yet he knew perfectly well how she felt about Damon. How she reacted to Damon. Matt also knew it wasn't a battle he would likely win in the end, but couldn't seem to get that through to his stubborn heart.

Mr. McCullough watched him in compassion, before pouring two small glasses of whiskey from the supplies they'd brought up. He handed one to Matt and gestured for him to settle down. "It'll be a long night, lad. Sit down."

Matt did, sitting on the bed up against the headboard, rifle leaned against the bed. Mr. McCullough checked to make sure his daughter was asleep, before starting a conversation in hopes of lightening the mood and giving a little bit of fatherly advice. "Do you know where I was at your age?"

Matt shook his head, at this moment not particularly caring. Mr. McCullough went on, thinking back on that tumultuous time of his early twenties. "I was on a boat heading for America with no money and no prospects. The girl I'd loved for years had gotten engaged to my best friend, who had both money and prospects. They were heading here for his job and I was crazy enough to follow her hoping to change her mind." Mr. McCullough paused, laughing at the stupidity of his youthful decisions.

Matt was intrigued now, but still sarcasm and bitterness coated his tones. "I'm sure that worked out well."

Mr. McCullough made eye contact, brown to cornflower blue and smiled broadly. "Well, I've still got no money, but I can blame that on four daughters. It did work out though, in the end I managed to win Moira's heart and get her to see what had been there all along."

Matt looked thoughtful at this the discussion began on tips and tricks and a request for the full story, which slowly came out with a brief stop of the power going out causing them to light emergency lanterns and a discussion on whether it was the wolves, the blizzard or Damon in a fit of pique. Slowly, what was could have been one of the worst conversations Matt had to endure, introducing Bonnie's father into her supernatural activities, became one he would cherish. Slowly, but surely a man who had no sons and a boy who had lost a father long ago came to develop a relationship that would benefit both.

* * *

"What are you doing in my room?!" It was an anxious quasi-whisper to contain the shriek Bonnie was feeling inside at the sheer panic of waking up with Matt asleep on top of her bed covers and shaking him. She looked around in panic, spotting Damon leaning against the corner with a tired, but amused smile on his face. "You too! _Oh my_ _God!_ "

She sat up straighter as Matt mumbled into awareness, panic causing her to wring her hands, her voice getting louder and louder. "Oh this is bad, very bad. My dad is going to _kill_ you both!" She paled even further, adding almost as an afterthought, "Then he'll probably kill me too."

Outside in the hallway, where Mr. McCullough was eavesdropping, he chuckled to himself.

Inside the room, Matt and Damon were exchanging glances and whatever Matt was thinking caused Damon to shake his head in the negative. Bonnie didn't notice, she seemed to be waking up more fully and panicking more quickly, "How did we get home anyway? And why are you both here instead of at home or the boarding house?"

"Ummmm," Matt started before faltering into nothingness. A dark voice took over smoothly, "You were asleep when it was time for us to leave Dalcrest, so I carried you to the car and you slept all the way home and through the blizzard."

"Must have been exhausted by finals and all the work shifts, Bonnie. Your dad insisted we stay the night." Matt added helpfully with a glance at Damon for approval.

"A blizzard?" She said startled, immediately jumping out of the bed to run to the window to look at the mountains of snow, childish excitement in her voice, "Wow!" She turned, her hand on her hips, "I wish you would have woken me up to see!"

Damon's velvet tones were droll, "Yes, falling snow is terribly enthralling to watch, little bird."

She stuck her nose up at them and headed out of the bedroom for the bathroom to get herself ready for the day. She paused to give her dad a hug hello and it wasn't until partway to the bathroom she paused again, turning to look from the door halfway down the hall and back at her dad, utter confusion on her face. "Daddy? Why is there a door on the floor?" Her eyes flitted to the other cracked door frame as it caught her flashlight beam, "And that?"

Damon and Matt's heads were both poking surreptitiously out of her bedroom to wait for the answer. Mr. McCullough glanced at them then smiled at Bonnie. "The upstairs has needed renovation for awhile and since your mom is out of town I figured it was the perfect time to do it." He smiled widely back at the boys, his brown eyes as innocent as his daughter's, "Damon and Matt offered to help, since resetting doors is a two man job."

She shrugged her shoulders, "Hope that means I get a new door too!" Then she disappeared into the bathroom. Mr. McCullough turned back to the boys and shrugged, Matt didn't seem to mind the prospect and if Colin McCullough heard a whisper of a darkly amused thought in his brain, _Well played_ , he simply chose to ignore it.

It was sometime later that Bonnie peered around the kitchen in confusion, lifting her lantern to get a better look with the stormy morning skies and for a second Matt wondered if she was starting to remember last night, but her eyes were stuck on the table propped up against the back door. She turned, throwing out her voice into the house, in wonderment again. "Daddy?! Why is the table against the back door?"

Her father appeared and his face looked uncomfortable as he rapidly was trying to think of an answer, Bonnie went on. "Did you and mom have a fight or something?"

"It was because of the blizzard." He stuck to the excuse the boys had given, she seemed even more confused, but he was rapidly coming up with an answer. His mustache twitched up in a smile, "Well, I'd already let two wayward travelers stay the night and I couldn't have the fairies thinking the same, now could I?"

Bonnie rolled her eyes dramatically at her father's persistent belief that fairies existed in his home village. Her teasing response was said with affection though, "You're a big ole weirdo from a weird little place."

He laughed and Matt relaxed at Bonnie's easy acceptance. Mr. McCullough folded his arms, "Well this weirdo was going to make you your favorite campfire breakfast, but now…"

"Blueberry and syrup pancakes!" It was a squeal of joy, then a chant as she passed by her father, her words only pausing long enough to kiss him on the cheek as she danced towards the fireplace in the other room.

There was a collective sigh of relief in the kitchen, the less Bonnie knew about her tumultuous night, the better. Mr. McCullough got a renovated upstairs by an experienced Matt and an amused vampire. He made one request while Bonnie was still dancing and chanting, answering a question they'd both been thinking at various points throughout the night, _Why did you never tell her?_ His voice was tired, "For a father that's had to stand by and watch her struggle….I'd like you not to mention this to her. It's something I need to tell her on my terms, when the time is right." His voice was heavy, thinking of the phone call he needed to make once the power was back on, "And the time is certainly coming soon."

Matt looked curious, but nodded, while Damon simply turned away in haughty consent. If it was many, many years before Colin McCullough plucked up the courage to ask Damon what exactly his hunting had entailed and how it never hit the news, nobody could blame him.

 _Fin (?)_


End file.
